


A Lil’ Vacation

by BRUIN



Series: Lil' Man 'Verse [2]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: AdultBaby!Jensen Ackles, Extra Prompt Fill, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Infantilism, Little Ones are adult babies, M/M, Non-Sexual Age Play, Papa!JDM, Summer Vacation, daddy!Jared
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-20
Updated: 2017-10-20
Packaged: 2019-01-17 18:30:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12371550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BRUIN/pseuds/BRUIN
Summary: Requested follow-up for OP of Little Man.





	A Lil’ Vacation

Jeff could remember the days when their annual, mid-August vacation used to consist of a singular suitcase.

He and Jared would stuff the case in the trunk of the Impala and be on their way for the lengthy, five-hour-or-more drive to the oceanfront vacation spot that their handpicked family had been going to for years. Jeff used to laugh and mock the amount of ‘essentials’ that their friends had to lug along for themselves and their Little Ones.  He could recall when Jared first got his Ford Explorer and offered to include Mike, Tom and their little girl, Danneel, on their journey, given the amount of room to spare. Jeff had thought he had never seen so much stuff be packed into a car before…

Until now.

Now, Jeff had officially seen a ridiculous amount of luggage stuffed into a vehicle – and _this_ was coming from the man who spent a few months living in his Impala with the majority of belongings after leaving home as a young adult.

‘‘Can we fit another pack of diapers in?’’ Jared asked, sounding sheepish.

Jeff inwardly groaned at the question, his hand automatically coming up to scrub at his face. He loved Jared, he told himself. He loved his husband to the ends of the earth. He did. Even if said husband had woke him up earlier than necessary to merely discuss ‘the list’ that had been created weeks prior. Hell, Jeff had been forced to skip his fist mug of coffee to pack the SUV. Jared had been adamant about not falling behind the time schedule in spite of running an hour early.

‘‘Oh!’’ Jared carried on, flitting around the open trunk. ‘‘Jeff,’’ he was waving that damn notepad with _the list_ , ‘‘Jeff you haven’t packed Jensen’s stroller!’’

Yes. Jeff loved his husband. He really did. Honest. But, sometimes –

‘‘I knew we should’ve used the roof rack for luggage…’’ Jared was mumbling to himself.

 Sometimes Jeff needed to reel Jared in.

‘‘Ok, no,’’ Jeff breathed, swiftly grabbing his husband’s shoulders. ‘‘You, go away,’’ he propelled the floppy-haired idiot away from the car. ‘‘Seriously, go inside, or something.’’

Jared dug his heels into the gravel. ‘‘Wait, _what?!_ ’’

‘‘Shoo, stress-head,’’ he sounded more tired than serious. ‘‘We tried to your way, now we’ll do it my way.’’

‘‘Jeff, no!’’

It was a whine, an honest to God whine. Jeff would’ve laughed if he had enough energy to do so. Alas, he didn’t and, entirely aware of Jared’s continued hovering, began removing one of the larger suitcases to reorganize the trunk. Jared produced a choked sound of horror, already protesting, while Jeff continued his goal. They only needed one large and one medium suitcase for their small family of three, plus Jensen’s _true_ essentials and the tote bag filled with an array of toys.  

They were going away for a week, not a month. Carmel-by-the-sea had stores they could drive to should they have forgotten anything. Jared had merely over-packed, adding triple the items needed, essentially dominating the SUV’s huge trunk and purposefully folded down third-row seats in an inefficient manner . Plus, Jeff had invited Sam into their vehicle and needed to make sure they had enough room for her luggage.  
  
Either way, Jeff continued to sift through the contents of the removed suitcase, removing needed items and squeezing them into a small duffle bag. He _refused_ to look at Jared, knowing full well the moment he saw his husband’s hazel puppy-eyes that he’d be doomed and re-packing everything he’d removed. Some point during Jeff’s alterations, Jared wandered off inside. He hoped he hadn’t annoyed Jared too much, the last thing he wanted was to start their first vacation with Jensen in the proverbial dog house. Still, after double-checking everything, he began the process of hauling a suitcase, two unopened packs of diapers and a bag of unneeded items back into the house.  
  
Jeff dumped everything in the guestroom and made his way back outside, folded stroller in hand, to slip it neatly into the back of the car. He admired his tidy work, just for a moment, and slammed the trunk shut. He still had his hand resting on the SUV’s shiny, ruby-red surface when the crunch of gravel hinted at returned company. Automatically, Jeff checked the time on his phone (6:41AM – still way ahead of Jared’s schedule). He heaved out a sigh, bracing himself to the flurry of panicky activity that Jared was going to restart again…when soft lips landed on his scruffy cheek.

‘‘Sorry,’’ was exhaled against Jeff’s skin, followed by another peck closer to the corner of his mouth. ‘‘Sorry for bein’ a stressy loser, babe. It’s our first time away with Jensen and I – never mind. _Here_.’’

Something warm and metallic is pushed is pushed into his hand. When Jared steps back, Jeff can see it’s a familiar, albeit dinted, stainless steel thermos. It doesn’t take a genius to know there is coffee in there; Jared knows such a substance if Jeff’s lifeblood during the morning. A soft noise escapes Jeff’s mouth, and he’s already diving into his husband’s personal space to deliver a mildly heated, thankful kiss. They don’t get too carried away with their exchange of kisses, though. Not when Jeff finds his chest bumping against something that isn’t his husband’s own firm muscle.

Separating, a quick blink downwards indicates what (or, more precisely, _who_ ) is latched to Jared’s chest in a bundle of multicolored fabric dotted with dinosaurs: Jensen. Their tiny, Modified Little One is fast sleep, completely conked out. Jeff feels his heart swell at the sight, already reaching out to gently run a knuckle down the curve of Jensen’s sleep-warmed cheek. The sensation causes Jensen to snuffle and suck his pacifier further into his mouth for a short series of bobs. Such a sight has Jeff chuckling, his fingers moving to tuck golden-brown wisps behind Jensen’s ears.

‘‘Nothing to be sorry for, Jay,’’ Jeff says, still idly marveling at their baby boy. ‘‘You’re not much of a loser, but you are _my_ stress-head. It happens.’’

Jared visibly sags with relief, an apologetic look remaining. Jeff can’t help but coax that expression away with a quick series of pecks that has his husband smiling and trying to bat him away with his unoccupied hand. The jostling doesn’t disturb Jared’s precious cargo, but it does cause Jensen to grumble and frown within his sleep. Such a response immediately has the pair of them stilling until the crinkle between their little guy’s brows smooths out.

‘‘We best get movin’,’’ Jared informs him, mindlessly burying his nose into Jensen’s fluffy hair. ‘‘We’ve still gotta stop by Sam’s to get her,’’ he continues, sidling closer to the nearest passenger door. ‘‘I’ll get Jensey set up in his car seat if you go lock up?’’

‘‘Sure, sure.’’

‘‘I left his diaper bag on the porch – ’’ Jared’s anxiety is creeping into his voice, again ‘‘– Don’t forget to grab it, okay? It’s got Honey and Blue in with some filled bottles and snacks !’’

Fond exasperation has Jeff shaking his head and smiling during his lazy jog back to the house. He does as he’s told, only after unscrewing the lid of his thermos for a well-deserved chug of coffee. It burns his tongue yet immediately perks him up, his mood lifting as much needed caffeine enters his bloodstream. Becoming a father often meant skipping that first mug to focus on Jensen when called for, but that didn’t mean Jeff didn’t _need_ it. Nonetheless, he finished his given tasks and (diaper bag not forgotten) sips the rest of his coffee slowly, savoring the taste, during his walk back to the ruby-red SUV.

Jeff’s more than ready to drive, heading straight for the driver’s door – until spotting Jared seated in his presumed spot. The younger man has the window down, one arm thrown out, and is giving Jeff a gentle look of appreciation. Before he can open his mouth, his floppy-haired husband is jerking a thumb over his shoulder, telling him that:

‘‘I’ll drive first, we can change at the rest-stop.’’

‘‘You sure?’’ Jeff doesn’t mean to sound uneasy, it’s just – well, Jeff’s _always_ drove first the first stretch. Ever since Misha and Vicki proposed a group vacation all those years ago, back when Sam still had her sweet baby Gabe, Jeff had been the one who took first shift. Sure, they habitually (save the year Jared got his SUV) used Jeff’s Impala, but even then he had drove the three-or-so-hours before their rest-stop, leaving the last two hour drive for Jared.

Jared rolls his eyes, undoubtedly reading his mind. ‘‘Get in.’’

‘‘I’m not complaining,’’ Jeff utters, opening the back passenger door and clambering in. ‘‘Honest, babe.’’

‘‘Uh-huh.’’

He isn’t complaining, though. Jared seems to think otherwise, clearly not deigning him with much of a response. Jeff just likes driving during road trips, that’s all. Still, he slides into the pale, grey leather seat located behind his husband and drops the diaper bag at his feet, quietly closing the door behind him in a bid to not wake Jensen. Jeff glances at the unused, folded-down seats behind that currently have extended luggage, double-checking that everything secure enough to not topple off if Jared needs to harshly use the breaks when encountering the usual idiots found on the highways.

Content, Jeff buckles himself in and, unable to help himself, fusses with blanket Jensen is still swaddled in. He’s purposefully tucking the yellow, satin trim of the blanket under Jensen’s cheek, knowing how much comfort his little man gains from the soft texture. A part of Jeff worries that, buckled in with the blanket, Jensen might get too warm as the day progresses and the typical, uncomfortable heat of summer seeps into the car, until Jared starts the car. The immediate blast of cool air from the air conditioning puts Jeff at ease and, given the knowing smirk Jared is firing at him from over his shoulder, the blanket was a thought out decision.

Jeff’s ready to flick his husband’s ear and tell him to get a move on when Jared just does that. Their barely off the drive, pulling into the empty road in front of their property, when Jared says a sentence that makes Jeff’s heart sing.

‘‘There’s another thermos of coffee in the diaper bag.’’

 

* * *

 

It’s the sound of laughter, loud and joyous, that wakes Jensen up. 

He’s not impressed at being woken to loud noise in the first place, let alone loud unfamiliar noise. Jensen’s screwing his face up, grumbling behind his pacifier at the laugh that is no way like Papa’s rumble, or Daddy’s goofy guffaws. A hand, big and calloused, smooths over the top of his head and down one side of his face. He knows that hand so well that it relaxes him enough to stop grouching, the instinctive response and beginnings of upset brought to a swift end. Only then, when the unfamiliar laughter tapers off into a female voice, does Jensen’s sleepy brain click into gear.

‘Cause Jensen _knows_ that voice.

And, upon hearing the same, feminine laughter again in far less sleep addled state, does Jensen correct himself. He _knows_ that laugh, too. The laugh belongs to the same owner as the voice: Auntie Sam. Reluctantly, Jensen blinks open his eyes, only to find himself wincing at the bright light of a hot day.

Instantly wincing; Jensen burrows into the soft folds of what is his favourite, light-weight blanket. He takes a moment for his sleepy eyes to recover, lazily listening to the murmur of the radio beneath grown-up talk and laughter, before resurfacing out of his blanket with a squint. He’s in his car seat, in Jared’s car – and it’s not that disorientating when Jensen can fuzzily remember the gentle wake-up Daddy had gave him. That must’ve been hours ago, though. But, still, he can recall little pieces of Daddy’s cooed comments when the man was changing Jensen’s diaper earlier than usual, reminding him that today was the start of their family vacation.

‘‘Hey there, sleepy fella.’’ Jeff’s voice is accompanied his hand, the same work-roughened one from before, cupping his face.

Jensen lolls his head to the side and squints at his Papa seated beside him, letting out a soft hum as gentle fingers swipe along the sleep creases on his cheek. Papa ends up thumbing his nose playfully before magically reading Jensen’s mind, and expertly helps him worm further out of his blanket-like cocoon by weaving the majority of the material out from the safety harness that is keeping Jensen buckled in. There’s only so much Jeff can do without unbuckling him, Jensen is sat on his blanket, after all… but Papa makes it work, and Jensen’s more than content when the colorful fabric is unfolded, freeing his bare legs, and bunched mainly around his hips.

He’s too preoccupied with fully waking up – kicking his feet and clutching at the soft, satin edge of his blanket – that he’s taken by surprise when Jeff removes his soother. That’s _not_ nice, and Jensen’s completely ready to let out a noise of protest when Jeff pops the nipple of a bottle into his mouth. He scowls at Papa, but only for a moment. The second Jensen takes the first suck of the bottle’s contents all grumpy anger dissolves within a blink of an eye.

This isn’t his usual warm, honeyed milk. Nope, this is entirely new. This is a gloriously icy-cool banana milkshake, and his pleasantly surprised reaction must show, because Papa begins to rumble out a laugh.

‘‘Nice, isn’t it, sunshine?’’ Jeff beams at him.

 _Very_ nice, Jensen thinks, focusing on getting as much of the refreshingly chilly liquid into his stomach. To keep this this cold, somebody must've used ice-cream and crushed ice. Until now, he didn’t know how thirsty or hungry he was.

‘‘Everything okay back there?’’

Jared’s voice snags Jensen’s attention, his eyes darting to the driver’s seat that his daddy is in. Jensen keeps up his snuffly suckling, happy to let Jeff continue to hold the bottle, relaxing. He tries to peer around the bottle half-obscuring his view and blinks at the reflection of Jared’s happy, fox-like eyes in the rearview mirror.

‘‘All good back here, Jay,’’ Jeff’s voice is still tinged with amusement, ‘‘Banana milkshake is a _big_ hit. ’’

‘‘My baby boy likes his pre-vacation treat?’’ Jared sounds so ecstatic.

‘‘Mm,’’ Jensen agrees around his bottle. He’s happy and wiggling his bare toes, idly glancing at the blur of scenery passing his window that he only half-listens to the trio of grown-up conversation. Auntie Sam’s up front next to Daddy, talking about boring stuff with Papa as Jensen focuses on finishing his bottle. He’s just finished the delicious dregs when Sam, muttering praise at how lucky his parents were at him sleeping so long into the car journey, reaches back to lightly tickle the sole of Jensen’s foot.

The action has him snorting a laugh, and Papa hastily begins to dab Jensen’s mouth and chin with a cloth, clearly eager to stop any spillages landing on the front of the white, short-sleeved onesie Daddy had wrangled him in during the early morning. Not happy with having his face assaulted, Jensen squirms, fussing. Now that he’s far more aware and a little more functional, he wants his usual cuddles and kisses from his daddies – starting with Jared.

‘‘Dah-Daddy,’’ Jensen calls, stretching his arms out.

‘‘Aw, Jensey, I’m driving,’’ Daddy says, his huge shoulders dipping as he continues to look ahead, driving. ‘‘I promise, sweetpea,’’ he continues, probably spotting Jensen’s frown via the mirror. ‘‘10 or so minutes, and we’ll be pullin’ up for some roadside grub and a leg stretch. D’you think you can be my brave boy can hold on for cuddles ‘til then?’’

Jensen could only give a small, unsure nod.

‘‘For now, you’ve got Papa for company,’’ Jeff grins, producing Honey the bunny.

Accepting his long-eared friend, Jensen tries not to feel too hard done by. It’s good to have Papa close by. Grinning toothily, Jensen extends an arm towards Jeff, opening and closing in fist in a typical, grabby-motion. His papa gently grasps Jensen's much smaller hand within both of his own, carefully turning Jensen's hand until it was palm up. Only then, does the Modified male feel the prickly scritch-scratch of Papa's beard against brushing across his palm, followed by a smattering of kisses that has Jensen squeaking.

‘‘T-T'ckles!''

* * *

King’s Diner is a little off the beaten path upon entering Monterey County. It’s shabby and worn on the outside but beyond welcoming on the inside. The diner has probably been around for a long time, although Jared is sad to say he had only discovered the quaint eatery a few years prior due to a moment of following Misha’s car (and misguided, faulty navigation system) to fill up Jeff’s thirsty Impala. Instead of a gas station, their small convoy of friends-turned-family found King’s.

Since stopping for brunch all those years back, the beaten-up diner became their typical spot to re-group during the trip, grab a bite to eat and tend to their Little Ones needs before hitting the road again. Jared was used to grabbing a table with his husband and Sam due to everyone else being busy seeing to their restless or cranky adult babies. This time, however, Jeff and Sam went ahead to grab a table for their hoard, and Jared was left with the new aspect of tending to his own baby.

Jensen wasn’t too restless, yet very alert. Almost overly so.

His and Jeff’s baby boy had slept the majority of the drive, (which was a blessing, really) but it seemed the extra sleep coupled with new surroundings had spawned a wiggly-sort energy into the Modified Little One. Almost _four times_ Jared had to usher Jensen into laying down on the changing mat he had set up on the SUV’s unoccupied backseat. He was glad to do the task from the car though, especially when he knew how tiny the diner’s minimal restrooms happened to be.

Still, if changing a wriggling Jensen’s messy diaper was difficult, it had nothing on trying to wrangle the squirmy, little body into additional clothing. Jared was thankful for the forethought of slipping Jensen into a fresh, short-sleeved bodysuit before departing their home. It meant all he had to do was close the crotch snaps of the white garment and quickly encourage little legs into the dark-green, overall shorts. Completing that task, Jared noted, was easy – even if Jensen grumped over the two-second-long fumble Jared’s fingers created over adjusting one of the overall’s shoulder straps.

Getting tiny, white cotton socks and Velcro-strapped sneakers onto his baby, however, were an entirely other story.

‘‘Un!’’

‘‘I know, I know,’’ Jared chants, trying to sound sympathetic. ‘‘Daddy is so mean, trying to protect his baby’s feet.’’

Jensen’s irritated grunt fades into a conceding grumble.

‘‘We’ll get these on and go for a little walk, just Daddy and his sweetpea,’’ Jared divulges his plan of action. ‘‘Then we can go inside to Papa and Auntie Sam for some yummy food once the others show up, okay?’’

Food sweetens the deal, Jared can tell, as Jensen nods while smiling hugely behind his pacifier. The little man stills after his exaggerated head-bobbing, his body no longer squirming with impatient energy so Jared can slip the last shoe on with zero difficulty. As mildly frustrating as it had been to dress his wiggly-worm of a baby, it’s good to see Jensen fully indulge his natural (albeit not overly obedient) whims when deep in his Little headspace.

Unable to help himself, Jared presses his mouth to Jensen’s cheek and blows a raspberry. The giddy, high-pitched squeal down his ear is deafening, but _so_ worth it. Grinning, he throws the diaper bag’s strap over one shoulder and scoops Jensen up for cuddles. There is something comforting and satisfying at once upon inhaling the babyish scent and feeling the slight weight in his arms. Jared’s like an overly large, affectionate cat as he rubs his cheek against Jensen’s own. He’s in the middle of peppering giggle-inducing kisses on Jensen’s face and shutting the car door with his hip, when he notices two familiar vehicles pull up to park.

Jared recognizes Tom and Mike’s silver Buick alongside Misha’s white Toyota hybrid instantly – almost as instant as Vicki, Misha’s wife, to launch out the Toyota’s front passenger seat to run around the car and clamber at the backdoor. He doesn’t need to guess what is causing such a flurry in activity when Vicki pulls out her eldest Little One, Chris, from the backseat, holding him at arm’s length with her hands tucked under his arms. The stocky, Modified male is red-faced and pants-less with his pull-up shucked down to mid-thigh, clutching at his crotch in a desperate _‘I’m gonna pee myself!’_ fashion as Vicki hastily charges towards some nearby dry brush that is, undoubtedly, going to be heavily watered.

‘‘Uh-oh,’’ Jared finds himself saying, watching the entire event unfolding.

Little green eyes follow his attention. ‘‘U-Uh-oh.’’

‘‘Yeah, uh-oh,’’ Jared laughs, giving Jensen a light bounce. ‘‘Poor Chris,’’ he adds, sobering up. ‘‘We’ll have to give him some cuddles an’ cheer him up, won’t we?’’

Jensen gives a firm nod, looking far too serious. His and Jeff’s Little One is lost in deep thought, frowning in the direction of Chris and taking slow, contemplative sucks on his pacifier. It’s only when Jared pats his boy’s freshly diapered rear does Jensen visibly brighten up, an idea gleaming in his eyes.

‘‘M’lk’hake, Daddy?’’ Jensen chirrups. ‘‘M’shake?’’

He can put two and two together, but still checks. ‘‘Milkshake for Chris, huh?’’

‘‘C’ris, m’lkshake – ’’ Jensen says, and then promptly points a finger at himself ‘‘ – an’ J’sen m’shake.’’

Cheeky fella, Jared thinks. It seemed giving Jensen a milkshake upon waking was a bad idea, the Little was hooked. Still, Jared ends up agreeing with the request, only if Jensen finishes his food first. After all, it’s nearing half-eleven in the morning and his baby has only had a milkshake and snacks. A hearty brunch is in order, that's for sure.

But, first… he needs to tire Jensen out. Just a little bit to not be too rowdy in the diner. Plus, the worked off energy would be fantastic in keeping the remainder of their car journey as stress-free as possible. Two hours towards their final destination with a fidgety, bored baby wouldn’t be fun for anyone on board. So, with that in mind, Jared carefully deposits Jensen’s feet on the ground, keeping a hold of the Little’s torso until that first-wobble for balance dissolves.

Once certain no tumbles are going to happen, Jared uses one hand to hold Jensen’s own. Both he and Jeff have kept up with keeping Jensen’s legs in working order, but being carried the majority of the time still makes their already clumsy boy unsteady at the best of times. Either way, Jensen looks elated to have his tiny feet on the ground, stomping excitedly with Honey hanging from his other hand. Jared smiles at the reaction while snagging the blue-tinted, disposable diaper bag that he left on the floor post-diaper change.

‘‘Shall Jensey and Daddy go dump this icky stuff in the trash, first?’’ Jared begins, raising the blue bag. ‘‘Then we can go for a walk in the shade over there before food, okay, sweetpea?’’

 

* * *

  
Jensen is sweaty from his short walk with Jared on the unkempt grass-dirt-patch at the side of the diner. It doesn’t matter that they were under the shade of a ginormous tree that has been better days: it’s August in California and it’s _hot_ , _hot, hot._

No longer is Jensen happy to putter about with Daddy, not when his tummy begins to rumble. Everyone so far – his Aunt, trio of Uncles and fellow Littles – had waved at them ages ago before stating that they’d meet them inside. Jensen can feel a whine building up at the back of his throat, the growing heat and scent of food emitting from the diner making him impatient. He’s grunting behind his soother and jabbing a finger towards the diner when Jared _finally_ plucks him up.

Jensen thinks that his daddy as deciphered his Jensen-ese, or read his mind, but no. As opposed to following Jensen’s direction, it’s the nearby crackle of dirt and gravel under tires that appear to be the reason why Jared picked him up. He doesn’t get what’s so important about a black, BMW sedan parking close up until two very familiar faces exit the vehicle.

‘‘Late by 20minutes,’’ Daddy laughs at the couple, ‘‘Not bad. For you lot.’’

Uncle Milo shakes his head in response, half-smiling while slipping a pair of sunglasses into the front pocket of his barely fastened shirt. Jensen is momentarily distracted by how _shiny_ those sunglasses glint in the sun that he barely notices the grown-up talk or how Aunt Alona is disappearing around the other side of the car to collect Sandy. In fact, Jensen only becomes aware that Daddy has been talking and walking, closing the distance between them, when Milo ruffles Jensen’s hair.

‘‘ – how did your Lil’ One handle the drive so far?’’ Milo politely asks. He gives Jared enough time to say ‘fine’ before carrying on with speaking, ‘‘Our Sandy was _an angel_ during our first trip to the beach house. Couldn’t ask for a sweeter Little. She sat still in her car seat the whole way, no fuss, far too busy with her toys.’’

 ‘‘That so?’’ Jared emits a doubtful hum.

And Jensen _knows_ that look Daddy is suddenly pulling upon saying that. It’s the expression he pulls at Papa when he lets Jensen have another cookie before dinner. It’s the bored, half-smile of _I-know-your-lying-but-I-can’t-be-bothered-to-call-you-out_ look.  Uncle Milo seems oblivious to such a dubious expression, however, as he is too busy with continuing to sing Sandy’s praises.

‘‘I mean, you know how good she is, Jay. I know it’s been awhile since you babysat for us with getting Jensen, but Sandy is still as good as gold. She spent most of the trip singing songs with Alona, or – ’’

‘‘Using her color pens to decorate the back of our car’s seats,’’ Alona chips in, her tone falsely cheerful. ‘‘Which is why she was so quiet, right, Milo?’’

Jared produced a big, belly laugh that jostles Jensen. Uncle Milo isn’t laughing, but looking away, muttering something about how such pens are washable in spite of Aunt Alona’s insistence that, ‘‘this is why I said we should’ve chosen dark seats when buying our car. Beige shows every mark.’’

Their squabbling his light, mildly comical, yet with a slight bite. Jensen doesn’t know what to make of it. It’s not a proper, full-blown argument, nor is it entirely teasing and playful like his daddies’ jokey bickering. Still, his Aunt and Uncle’s minor disagreement isn’t enough to bring forth a cloud of tension, and Daddy’s still laughing at the pair when greeting Sandy.

‘‘Hey, there, sugarplum. You ready for somethin’ to eat?’’

Sandy might be perched on her mother’s hip, looking a tad drowsy. But she comes to life upon fully noticing her favourite Uncle. Jensen isn’t entirely pleased when _his_ Daddy catches her when she throws herself forward, out of Alona’s arms, with a shrieked delight. Jared’s quick reaction and sharp movement of hoisting Jensen higher up for a secure, one-armed hold while catching Sandy with the other narrowly made him drop his toy bunny.

Jensen whines a little, clinging to Daddy’s neck and squeezing Honey too tightly. His noise is drowned out by Sandy’s excitable squeals and a blend of grown-up conversation. Jared’s telling Sandy to be careful while Alona and Milo are sighing with relief over the fact their daughter didn’t hit the ground. Modified or not, Jensen could expect that the slight drop to the ground would’ve hurt…

‘‘An’ we sit t’gether, Uncle Jay?’’ Sandy insisted, glowing with excitement. ‘‘Like we _always_ do, yes?’’

Daddy began to move towards the diner. ‘‘Of course we can, sweetie.’’

Curling closer to Jared’s chest, Jensen tried to ignore the agitated, little niggle his cousin’s request produced. Sandy was perched in Daddy’s other arm, satisfied and preening, while Jensen remained uneasy in the other. It was stupid, but the build of his vacation eagerness and curiosity had ebbed over Sandy’s innocuous comment – the gentle reminder that he was still somewhat of a newbie, or an outsider.

Normalcy for his daddies, Jeff and Jared, at this diner involved Sandy and Daddy sitting together. Not Jensen. This was Jensen’s first time here, let alone first vacation. Still, it was small, social moments such as these that Jensen was reminded of his new position in the group, and it made him ridiculously unnerved. Nonetheless, Jensen tried to squash such thoughts and feelings away, even if it made his tummy flip-flop uncomfortably.

Instead, he worried away at the teat of his pacifier and carefully peered out from under Jared’s chin to look at the chattering, long-haired brunette latched to Jared’s other side. Sandy and he had yet to get along: she didn’t really acknowledge Jensen outside of ignoring him or swiping objects from him. In spite of Daddy’s hopes, a play date between the two of them had yet to be set up due to busy, pre-vacation schedules. Jensen knew his parents had high hopes that this family vacation with would warm him up further to the ragtag group that were their local, extended family.

It didn’t seem like a huge impossibility. Both Little Ones and grown-ups were likeable and kind. In fact, Jensen _did_ like them, even soother-stealin’-Sandy. Sorta - okay, maybe he only liked Sandy a _teeny-weeny_ bit so far. He just…needed time to get used to their quirks the same way they had to get used to him and, maybe, (like his daddies thought) the vacation with his Aunts, Uncles and Lil’ cousins would do that.

Yet, with each, sly dig of Sandy’s elbow against his side as she happily got comfortable in _his_ Daddy’s hold, Jensen started to have his doubts that he’d get along with everyone.


End file.
